


Castiel Chainsawhands

by Qzil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5148944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qzil/pseuds/Qzil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A witch places a curse on Castiel that swaps his hands for chainsaws. This puts a damper on things in the bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Castiel Chainsawhands

**Author's Note:**

> Although I cannot completely blame bloodandcream for this idea, she is the one who encouraged it, so it's mostly her fault.

Castiel’s new hardware is inconvenient, to say the least. 

He cannot dress himself, so Meg does it for him, helping him struggle into his suit pants and tying his shoes in the mornings. Every shirt she tries to get over his head winds up being ripped into ribbons by the blades. They try padding them, but Castiel complains that it is uncomfortable. Despite the fact that they’re chainsaws and shouldn’t be able to feel anything, Castiel still claims to have feeling there, and that the padding pinches. So he goes without a shirt. If Meg’s honest, she appreciates the view it gives her. 

She’s just glad that he doesn’t have to eat; otherwise she would have to feed him. Chainsaws, at is turns out, aren’t good for much. 

“Sam and Dean will fix it,” she assures him the third night they settle down to bed. Neither of them need sleep, of course, but Meg enjoys being able to black out for a few hours. She isn’t sure what Castiel does, but it probably isn’t much, considering the chainsaws that have replaced his hands. “Why don’t I put the Netflix on for you? You can work the buttons with your nose. Or feet.”

Castiel lets out a frustrated sigh. “I would like you to put some clothes on.”

Meg quirks an eyebrow at him and runs her hand down over her breasts and stomach. She doesn’t actually own pajamas, preferring nothing but a tank top and panties, if she had to wear anything to bed at all. “Oh, is this distracting?”

“Yes,” he says bluntly. “And seeing as I cannot have you, not while I have these, I would prefer it if you remove the temptation.”

“Demon, Clarence. Temptation’s what we do,” Meg points out. The chainsaws whirl to life in annoyance, and Meg winces at the harsh sound. It stops after a moment.

“Please, listen to me for once,” he requests. “It is frustrating enough that you must dress me like I’m a child.”

“No one’s saying you can’t fuck me,” Meg says. “Unless you dick’s changed into a chainsaw in the last twenty minutes.” She pauses and narrows her eyes at his crotch. “I mean, I guess we could try it even if that happened, but I don’t think you’d like all the blood and screaming, and my meatsuit would be beyond ruined.”

“This is not a joke, Meg! I don’t have the best control over these things. I could get overexcited and accidentally cut you in half.”

“Admittedly, the idea kinda turns me on. Not you actually cutting me in half, but the risk,” she explains when he sends her an alarmed look. “Besides, we could just tie your wrists down. A little uncomfortable, yeah, but no risk of me getting a chainsaw to the face. Is that why you’ve been so bitchy the last few days? Because you haven’t gotten any?”

He makes a face at her. “I’ve been _bitchy_ because there are chainsaws in place of my hands, Meg.”

“I think it’d be kinda cool for the first couple of days. If it were me, I’d be out chopping down trees and killing monsters with them and shit.” Castiel glares at her. Meg holds up her hands in a placating gesture. “I’m serious. I just thought you didn’t wanna have sex because you were in a bad headspace with the chainsaw hands. But I’ve got those sigil-covered belts I’ve been wanting to try out.”

She pulls off her shirt before he can answer and watches Castiel’s expression change from contemplative to dopey. It’s always a little funny to her, that she has a little bit of power over the angel, and she always hopes that she doesn’t get the same dopey expression when he does something exceptionally pleasing with his hands or mouth. 

Meg raises her hand to her breast and pinches her own nipple. Castiel swallows hard. “As long as you’re absolutely sure that they can hold me, so I don’t hurt you.”

Meg rockets off the bed and grabs the belts she’d made weeks ago after Sam had done research on how to bind angels. She hopes they work. A chainsaw through the back sounds like an exceptionally kinky time, but she doubts that Castiel would think so, especially once the blood started flowing and her meatsuit was damaged beyond repair. 

Castiel puts a pillow against his back as he pulls himself into a sitting position and lets Meg belt him to the headboard. She tugs on the belts to test them, and Castiel nods. 

“They work?” she asks. 

“My power feels dampened,” he tells her. “I am certain that I will not be able to break the belt with my angelic strength.”

“Good,” Meg says. She climbs into his lap and kisses him hard, not wanting to waste any time after going three days without him inside of her. If she’s being honest, she craves him as much as he craves her, craves the clean feeling she gets when they kiss and how pure she feels when they’ve finished fucking. She knows that her darkness must infect him the way that his light infects her, but doesn’t care. She needs him, he needs her. They’re a pair. 

It doesn’t take much to get either of them going, not with the way that their bodies respond to each other now, and she manages to wiggle his pants down his thighs in record time. The chainsaws twitch on either side of her head as Castiel unconsciously tries to hold her, and Meg smirks at the idea of having an angel completely at her mercy. 

For the first time, she’s thankful that the witch cursed Castiel. Without the chainsaws, she doubts that he’d be comfortable enough to let her tie him down. She hopes that, after he’s fixed, he’s a little more receptive to the idea. 

She pushes her panties to the side and doesn’t muffle her moan when she sinks down onto him. She hears Castiel growl in response and suddenly the chainsaws on either side of her whir to life. She feels her heart beat faster in her chest at the sound of the blades and rides him hard and fast, one hand braced on his shoulder and the other down between her legs. Castiel’s new hardware is less than a hair’s breath away from destroying her pretty little body and she can see him tugging at the cuffs in irritation, all of his caution forgotten, and laughs and wonders what it would feel like to have him saw her in half as she rides him. 

He finishes just after she does, letting out a long, low moan. His whole body shudders under her, and the chainsaws give a long screech before they stop moving and quiet on either side of her. Meg’s ears buzz, irritated by the loud whirring of the blades, but her smile stays on her face. 

“See?” she says. “Told you they’d hold.”

Castiel gives her the dopey look. Meg slides from his lap and delicately pulls his sleep pants back up. She strokes the blades of one of the chainsaws before she undoes the belts and feels Castiel shiver. 

Meg hopes that Sam and Dean don’t find the witch for another few days.


End file.
